bindsthedead

PSL

There was a time when Sabriel might have been eager to see the inside of Cyberlife Tower. Her class had been to Detroit when she was thirteen, and they'd toured an android factory- or the part of it they showed to tourists, at least- and visited museums and art galleries and all the sorts of things Young Ladies ought to see, but weren't available in the small town of Wyverley, or in Bain.

But Sabriel wasn't here for a school trip. Recent events in Ancelstierre meant that with the sudden loss of all android soldiers meant that soldiers from the entirely human garrison at the Wall had been transferred elsewhere- which meant fewer soldiers watching the border, on top of the losses from Kerrigor's attack, and a necromancer had slipped across, making his way to the largest city that was close enough to the Wall that magic still worked- one that seemed rather different than how she remembered it.

But what was occupying most of her attention was the Cyberlife representative in front of her. Sabriel listened politely as the woman spoke about malfunctioning machines and simulated emotions and how things that weren't alive couldn't die, so why would a necromancer- and from the woman's voice it was clear she didn't believe such things were real- want with deactivated androids?

Sabriel stood up and shook the woman's hand, telling her she'd been very helpful without meaning a word of it, and headed out the office before pausing.

She sensed something ominously familiar- Death, and a recent one at that. She turned another corner, following the sensation as a hound tracked a scent, half-expecting someone to spot her, to see her in her armor and bells (security had made her check her sword at the front desk) and tell her she wasn't allowed to be here.

But no one came, and no one living was in the laboratory she went into- just a dead- (deactivated?) android on a table-or its head and torso at least, with panels on its chest removed to reveal tubes and biocomponents, and Sabriel felt she'd stepped into a morgue and found an autopsied body.

Sabriel was seized by a sudden impulse. If androids weren't alive, then she'd simply waste some time, but if they were... well, she'd have a source of information she could interrogate as she would any Dead spirit. And unlike the representative she'd just spoken to, she could force it to answer honestly and completely.

Decision made, Sabriel undid the straps and drew Saraneth from the bandolier. This far from the Wall, stepping into Death took a deliberate effort, but soon Sabriel was in the First precinct and she cast around with her senses, trying to feel out the spirit of the android- if it had one, it couldn't have gone beyond the First Gate, and probably shouldn't be that far into the the First Precinct.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"I don't answer to you." Faint disdain laces the words, but there's nothing dissatisfied about the arch of Connor's brows, or the appraising tip of his head. The deviant is running, and that fact alone is enough to layer his flat scorn with satisfaction.

"...However much you play at being human."

Human arrogance. Human entitlement. And human reliability, when it comes down to it. Lying to, betraying, and misusing every entity that crossed its path. Cyberlife. Anderson. Himself. And now, Abhorsen.

Connor thinks he might be looking forward to tomorrow.

Connor pauses in mid-step. He's had every insult flung at him immaginable, by now, but this one digs deeper than most.

... His lips thin, and he doesn't turn. One step, two steps, and he's vanished through the doorway and into the rest of the house.

---

Connor finds clothes in a box in the guestroom's closet, and he's just finishing changing when he hears the front door unlock, scrape open, and swing shut. Connor stills, turning his hearing sensitivity up beyond recommended levels--there. Deep, even breathing. There are footsteps, but they're outside, and leading away.

Abhorsen wasn't the one to leave, and Connor turns his head to the door, considering following.

... No. Among other reasons, that android isn't the only one that needs to contact outside forces.

The next several hours for Connor are occupied by on-and-off calls, eventually accompanied by distracted attempts at practicing Abhorsen's simple light spell. He gets good at it. Jericho isn't happy with the choices he's made leading him to this point by the end, but there aren't any better suggestions, and by the time the sun is finally rising, Connor has focused solidly on trying to tease function from the symbols and singular spell that he's been taught.

The android returns. Abhorsen surfaces.

They leave.

It's snowing, as they leave, and Sabriel's teeth chatter until they step into the taxi. Their destination is outside Detroit, in one of the city's suburbs- A hospital, one that's still open after the evacuation- in human territory- one with a Cyberlife scientist among their patients.

Dr. Craven might not be as high in Cyberlife's hierarchy as Dr. Wendell, but he was aware of their dealings with the necromancer- and unlike Wendell, is currently away from Cyberlife tower and the security there.

Sabriel takes a deep breath, before she speaks, and keeps her tone carefully polite.

"This Dr. Craven, what can you tell me about him? What does he do for Cyberlife, exactly?"

Connor slides easily into the taxi, tugging his new jacket into a better lay as he sits. The inside pockets are comfortably weighed down with spare clips procured from the gun shop he visited the night before. At Abhorsen's question, he glances up—first to her shape in the front seat, and then to the deviant to his left. Who is she asking?

It doesn't interject immediately, so Connor speaks. "Research and development. He came up through the humanization department, and worked on behavioral algorithms for several recent product lines."

According (mostly) to a brief online search. The man's blog highlights his work on the AP700s... but his face matches a few internal files too. The data lost in version transfers renders Connor's oldest memories extremely sparse, but he's fairly sure this human was involved in version #313 248 317-51's updates.

"I see- including yours?" If that was the case... well, he might know why Cyberlife gave her Connor if they were also working with the necromancer, if the other Connor is telling the truth. If he isn't... well, Connor can tell her that he told her so, and she'd deserve it.

"Have either of you met him? Or have any idea what he's like, what would be the best way to get him to talk?" Is he arrogant? Timid? Did he work with the necromancer out of simple, stupid curiosity, or something more sinister? Sabriel turns to the other Connor, looking over the back of her seat.

"What evidence do you have of him working with the necromancer?"

"I believe so."

The answer is, if not hesitant, still absent any real force. Connor doesn't know enough about the human's involvement. He can feel the weight of attention to his side, and glances over, meeting his predecessor's stare. Connor lifts an eyebrow in return. If it has actual information, it can share at any time.

"He was there to supervise a prior version's tests. I don't recall the details."

"I haven't met him personally," Connor supplies, tearing his gaze away and speaking to Sabriel instead. "My recovered memories and intercepted correspondence suggest that he's ambitious, and eager to please authority figures."

"Our evidence of his involvement includes several suspicious transfers of funds, persisted occupation of an unmarked laboratory in a contested part of the city, as well as suggestive correspondence." Suggestive--but not completely incriminating. Unfortunately, he was too good to leave anything obvious where it could be found. Connor presses a hand to his pocket, but he wasn't carrying any changed, so he traced a seam on the side of his chair instead.

"He was only recently admitted to the hospital we're going to because of an infection from a suspicious animal bite." He doesn't need to draw a diagram. Connor's right arm briefly stills, before the fidgeting picks up again.

To Connor's limited knowledge, the profile is accurate. But his stare hardens, a derisive breath huffing out at its summary of our evidence. His eyes flick from the deviant to Abhorsen as he clarifies.

"Transfers of funds in other people's names. And the correspondence mostly suggests that Cyberlife is still searching for solutions."

He doesn't need to state the problem. They're sitting in a car with one.

"Free magic can be used to force someone's will on another, as long as their will is stronger," Sabriel says, frowning. "But while I don't understand exactly how deviancy works, I don't think magic can reverse it, and they wouldn't be able to transfer the control- even if he had living androids under his control, they would still be bound to obey the necromancer, and only listen to anyone else because he told them to."

Of course, Cyberlife and other Ancelstierrians won't understand that. They didn't even understand that what the necromancer had done was house Dead monsters in android bodies.

"In any case, what are your suggestions for how to approach and question him? Both of you are better at that sort of thing than I am."

Connor ignores his counterpart and files the information that's actually important here away: Free magic. Quantifiable will power. Control.

Connor finishes quickly, but it's still an moment's pause before he actually answers.

"He trusts his superiors, and is heavily influenced by his own ambition," Connor points out. "If it were feasible, I would advise posing as proxies sent to discuss secure plans in person. Unfortunately..." His eyes drop, sliding to himself and his counterpart briefly. "The chances of being discovered are over seventy percent."

He turns back to Sabriel. "An alternative would be to convince him that he has no hope of achieving his career goals. He may lash out, but in the process he may be more likely to be forthcoming."

Edited 2019-10-25 02:55 (UTC)

Abhorsen doesn't think magic can reverse deviancy. Connor lifts an eyebrow, but swallows his immediate retort—that she could take this opportunity to try. The odds of her agreeing are negligible, especially while the deviant's still pretending to help.

A pretense that remains... almost convincing. The slight on him, Connor pointedly ignores, but its secondary suggestion could be viable. Except—if Craven is forthcoming, that would bring his copy's pretexts to an end. It can't actually want that.

Is it planning a betrayal at the hospital? Or maybe it already has another trick in place. Images online could be manipulated, but not Connor's own memories; replacing Craven with a plant wouldn't hold up. Unless it dealt with him beforehand?

Too many variables. He refocuses, contributing in an almost noncommital tone: "Force could also be effective."

Sabriel frowns at the suggestion of torture. Aside from the moral issue of doing it to someone who might be innocent- a hospital seemed a poor place to do such things.

"He's in a hospital- someone will hear, and try to investigate. What if we used the other Connor's suggestion, and made him think Cyberlife tried to throw us off their trail by using him as a scapegoat? What would he do if he thought he'd been betrayed, and left to the wolves?" Connor could even threaten to torture him, if he wanted to.

"And if has been bitten by one of the Dead... the wound wouldn't respond to any Ancelstierrian medicine unless the doctors cut out all affected tissue. If they haven't done that yet- I could offer healing in exchange for information?" Of course, if it is a wound from the Dead, that means Connor was wrong about Cyberlife not being involved.

Connor's head twitches, but he doesn't actually look sideways as the other android volunteers his suggestion.

"We should start with the claims of scapegoating... and if that fails, we should examine his wounds. Then the use of force."

It's not a suggestion for a new approach--it's a schedule. He's started a queue already, lining them up in a row.

Abhorsen's ideas aren't surprising—at least, considering the self-admitted ignorance of their source. His duplicate's agreement, on the other hand...? Connor's brows knit in faint incredulity.

"You expect him to believe that Cyberlife gave up his name... to any group including you?"

It's more than implausible. It's absurd. If the deviant had approached Cyberlife for information, it would never have walked away. And the alternative explanation—that Abhorsen had pressed them for information, only to turn around and ally with the deviants—required persuading Craven that she'd tricked information from Cyberlife's agents before. Hardly a convincing base to start from in persuading him to disclose more.

He turns to Abhorsen. "If that's the tactic we're relying on, it should stay outside."

"We could tell him Cyberlife gave me another RK800, if you're all right with pretending not to be deviant," Sabriel says, giving the other Connor an uneasy, deeply apologetic look, "If you aren't... I could say I met with you after Cyberlife gave me the information and we struck a sort of truce?" She's sure Connor will have something harsh to say, but she's used to that by now. And while the other android might have chosen to work with her, he's not bound to her the way Connor is.

"Or you could.. wait outside the door and keep watch?"

"I need to be present during all of this," Connor says stiffly, tension coiling at the corners of his mouth. "As a deviant, I'm walking proof of the reason Craven's career is in jeopardy. I could help control the pressure he's under just by standing there."

"... And pressure is of course going to be crucial," he adds, turning to shoot the android a withering look. "If we approach this adequately, we can expect that he would be distracted enough by the accusations not to have time to doubt."

Immediately it occurs to him that this is an optimal place for his counterpart to sabotage him. Connor's expression doesn't move, but his fingers twitch at his sides: if his counterpart tries to fumble the interrogation, it will be proof in its own way. Still, if he could account for betrayals and build in contingencies...

"You're walking proof that we didn't come from Cyberlife," he shoots back. His eyes flick to Abhorsen, stare dulling slightly. "And there aren't any other RK800s."

Not after what the deviant had done. (Not after he failed to stop it.) Cyberlife had made it very clear at his inception that their entire model series was on the verge of being decomissioned.

If they'd changed their minds, he wouldn't have been thrown away.

He looks back to his copy, voice sharpening with quick, deliberate scorn. "That's your plan? You pretend Cyberlife trusted you. You accuse him of doing his supposed job. And somehow, this pressures him into sharing company secrets?"

Secrets Craven doesn't even have in the first place. Is it trying to obfuscate that fact? Maybe if it sabotages the interrogation, it thinks Abhorsen will let it prove its claims another way. Connor shakes his head, one hand cutting through the air as he gestures toward his copy.

"You suggested lying to him in the first place. If you actually wanted the tactic to succeed, you'd do the bare minimum to make it plausible."

"None?" Sabriel says, frowning a little, "Because they stopped manufacturing androids when deviancy became public knowledge?" Or is there another reason was the unspoken question. She wasn't sure if Connor was being deliberately contrary, or raising real issues- she didn't know Cyberlife or Craven well enough to know.

"If he's proof that we didn't get the information from Cyberlife," Sabriel says, keeping her attention on Connor, "Why don't I make him look like someone else? I don't think a magical disguise would fool cameras, but it should fool humans."

"Unless," Sabriel says, turning her attention to the other Connor, "You want to keep Craven so confused he doesn't have time to question whether any of what we're saying makes sense." It sounds like something that could work, but that could also fail miserably.

Connor sends her a look, tight lipped and impatient. She has good suggestions, but--

"We don't have to persuade him Cyberlife ever trusted us with anything," he snaps, turning back to his counterpart. His own hands are curled stiffly on his knees, and if he weren't strapped into a seat, he would probably be squaring off towards him.

"Trust doesn't matter. If we tell him that Cyberlife was found to have violated an international treaty with the Old Kingdom, we could claim they gave us information on Craven in order to deflect political and legal pressure away from themselves. It would back him into a corner easily. It could work," he adds, head glancing towards Abhorsen without actually breaking his stare-off.

Unlike his predecessor, Connor will return Abhorsen's gaze. Still, his attention certainly doesn't leave the challenge to his side. To the contrary: the condescending tip of Connor's head makes it perfectly clear exactly who (or what) he's talking about.

"Our model series was slated for decomissioning after Connor #313 248 317-53 betrayed its mission to kill humans." He bites off the words, eyes glinting coldly. "And that was before it infected thousands more to fuel its war."

His attention slides sideways, matching the defect stare for stare. "You really are deluded. The army used Cyberlife's resources to hunt Abhorsen because they thought she was protecting you. Even assuming Craven's not aware of that—and he might be—he can't be stupid enough to believe that they or anyone would cave to legal pressure from any group including you."

The military would shoot it on sight. Cyberlife would take it in. Abhorsen would be lucky not to be arrested herself for the collaboration. But leave it to the deviant to act like it would have rights.

"Pretending Cyberlife is our source will already take maneuvering." Teeth flash, one hand curling around the edge of the seat. "You're a liability."

To that, and so much more.

Sabriel shifts her attention from Connor to Connor, weighing both of their words.

"There are treaties between the Old Kingdom and Ancelstierre- but they're centuries old, and it's entirely possible the government will disregard them if they decide current events are more... pressing." But it's something, at least. Still, the other Connor is involved in open, violent revolt against the Ancelstierrians, which will certainly be a complication.

"Connor, do you have any better ideas? Besides torture?" It's half exasperation- and half a genuine question.

'Possible.' 'If.' Connor's eyebrows raise, deliberate and scornful, gaze still fixed on the defect. It knows as well as he does that these are more than possibilities. Maybe that's why its stream of idiocy has halted. Or maybe it's just choking on the reminder of its place.

Whatever the reason, he doesn't miss a beat. He looks back to Abhorsen, head cocking with the air of someone patiently repeating the obvious.

"Leave it outside."

It's the easiest solution. The best. He exhales, slow and pointedly annoyed.

"If you insist on coddling it, don't lie about Cyberlife at all. Craven's been left to rot in a public facility while his company's mistakes ruin his city and his job. Nothing about his profile suggests fanaticism—he won't want to die for other people's secrets."

Pressure instead of lie. Or Convince, depending on the man's reactions. With so little to work off, it was hard to know which tactic would work best. But between the deviant revolution and the human's own condition, Craven's position was nothing like secure.

Connor's fists curl, and his stare burns. The android had been holding back from agreeing just to have a stance to argue, and it's outrageously, flagrantly obvious now. Unfortunately, Connor can't allow himself to act on the impulse to take the android by the kneck and shake him violently.

"That's also an option," Connor says, more loudly than politeness really permits. As though he'd spoken at a perfectly reasonable level, he rolls his gaze to Sabriel. "I agree with this plan. It is, after all, what I was suggesting."

"Well," Sabriel says, fighting very hard to keep herself from saying something too sarcastic, "Considering how reluctant you are to agree about anything, I assume a plan you do agree on must be an excellent one. So that's the plan we'll follow."

The edge of sarcasm fades from her tone then, replaced by something earnest and utterly serious. "Now, what do you need me to do- or not do?" She knows that her interventions in previous interrogations haven't exactly been... helpful. And she reminds herself that even if it does come tot torture... if Craven't been working with the necromancer, she shouldn't feel sorry for him.

The badly hidden rage beside him, Connor pointedly ignores. If the deviant wanted credit for suggesting basic sense, it should have stuck with that tactic. Besides, the more outraged it is at their strategizing, the lower the odds they're playing into any tricks it might have planned.

Abhorsen's question is more relevant. "Don't heal him," Connor answers promptly. "Or tell him that he won't be hurt."

He doesn't look at his predecessor. He really doesn't need to.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject